


A Collection of Moments

by Unawarewolf



Category: Eddsworld - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Drabble, First Meetings, M/M, One Shot, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-04
Updated: 2019-09-04
Packaged: 2020-10-10 01:36:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20519813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unawarewolf/pseuds/Unawarewolf
Summary: Snapshots of time and space, from four different seasons, from four different universes.Or, a small photo album of first meetings.





	A Collection of Moments

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, I hope you enjoy.  
There isn't really an update schedule for this, but there will be four total one shots in this series.  
Comments are very much appreciated.

Rain softly patters against the large foggy windows of the coffee shop, the gentle glow of hanging lamps warm the interior, contrasted only by the chilly autumn breeze that drifts in occasionally when the door creaks open. A scattering of dry leaves fall onto the front mat, reflecting dimly on the auburn tile in the glow of the fading grey daylight. A couple is nestled in the corner, lost in each other. A few other patrons, enjoying their drinks and occasional pastries, are strewn about the shop in clusters; Conversations and laughter drifting through the air, mingling and dancing with the scent of coffee and cream. It was slow today, an easy flow of customers that came and went in gentle waves, as per usual when the school season begins. A man at the front counter busies himself quietly, refilling coffee pots and stacking cups, anything to keep his hands occupied. A skewed nametag glints fainting under the amber light, reading in little embossed letters, " _ Paul."  
_ Gruff and short and faintly nervous, but welcoming nonetheless, he was a presence in the room. Much like a fireplace keeping a home comfortable during the dark winter nights, he seemed inviting and warm, a low murmur of a man that seemed to whisper " _ I have stories to tell if you cared to listen, but I don't quite have the energy to speak the words. _ "

All and all, the moment felt somber. A second locked in time, like a photograph of a place you've never been. Both happy and sad, melancholy and electric with potential. It faded to black and white, ambient noise softly crackling like old television static, a million memories that could be made at that very moment, heartwrenching and beautiful, encouraging and terrifying. For a brief moment, that small coffee shop held the universe, every second of the past and future condensed comfortably closer with every small intake of breath, every tiny muffled laugh, every minuscule gasp of surprise. If one were to peak into this golden instance, even without knowing it, they would glimpse the instant the world exploded in color, two lives melting into one another like a cosmic car accident. A gorgeous disaster, a fluke, The eventuality of a long-forgotten butterfly effect. At that moment, however, it wasn't quite as poetic.

When the door opened, a high chime rang through the air faintly. When Paul's eyes traced the newcomer, he paused, stricken. Wedding bells didn't ring, the heavens didn't open up, but it would be a terrible lie if he had said that nothing stirred in his heart. That his breath had not caught in his chest, the clink of  _ something _ , some unknown part of him sliding into place in his mind; That a shiver hadn't eased itself down his spine at the sight.   
For a time, their eyes locked. Mossy hazel and warm brown tones eased around each other, searching perhaps for the source of such a feeling. It remained elusive, however, and Paul was the first to tear his gaze away anxiously. The man's raincoat seemed to be drying, and he supposed by the warm yellow glow forming a halo around his long, near-black hair the storm must have faded to a drizzle. He was shaking off a now closed umbrella, stark white turned cream against the brown and amber glows of the coffee shop. "Hello!" The man chirped suddenly, locking eyes with Paul once again. "The rain's cleared up, finally."   
His voice was soft and deep, smooth like honey on toast. Paul's mind was still lagging behind a bit, slightly enamored with the mysterious stranger who had stepped into his life, and his workplace, seemingly down from the skies themselves. "I've just moved here," he continued, oblivious to Paul's conundrum. "A few friends are helping me move in, but they aren't the biggest fans of coffee. More the energy drink types."

Paul blinked and finally came back to himself. "Is that so?" he pondered aloud, a smile in his voice. "I assume you're the coffee type?"  
"Oh, I live on the stuff." The man replied, smiling broadly. "Do you live around here?"   
"Yeah, I live in the apartment above the shop. Is that too much information?" Paul wondered, mentally kicking himself. "I figured you were new around here, I know almost everyone who comes in. What would you like, by the way? I'm sorry for not asking sooner-" He rambled, gesturing wildly. It seems like he always did this, said far too much and then, as if to compensate, would ramble until he ran out of words like a busted faucet with a bit more than a drip.  _ Bastard! _

The stranger chuckled and placed his card on the counter. "I think I'll have a... Hm," He paused for a spell, dark, unfathomable butterscotch eyes scanning the menu board above. "I'm not sure. What do you recommend?"  Paul stopped to consider this for a moment. It felt, somehow, like this question was much more than what it seemed. As if his answer could bend and twist space itself, a heavy weight rested on his shoulders. His hands shook. "Well, I tend to prefer tea. But I suppose the pumpkin mocha is always popular this time of year?" Paul murmured absently, gaze instead focused on the way the stranger toyed with his coat buttons. An amusing thought drifted through his mind:  _ You certainly seem like my cup of tea. _

A cheerful bark of laughter from the stranger caught him a bit off guard, and he glanced up to those wonderful eyes again, sparkling with amusement. "Really? I'm not much to look at, but thank you regardless. You're quite handsome yourself." Paul didn't have time for the shame of having said his thoughts out loud to set in, instead, his mind was lost in a haze, disagreeing idly with the stranger, softly whispering, as if not to wake whatever slept in his soul;  __ Not quite, you're absolutely wonderful.  
Paul blushed heavily, looking down at the card his hand rested softly on. In little letters, he could make out a few numbers, and possibly the stranger's name. "Patryk, is it?"   
"That would be me," He replied, fond amusement evident in his voice. "I do think I'll give that a try, the pumpkin mocha I mean. Medium, please." 

Paul nodded and set to work, announcing the price in a remarkably steady voice and swiping Patryk's card, deciding to focus on brewing for the time being. It was incredibly hard to draw his thoughts away from the man on the other side of the counter, however. The soft tap of his boot against the floor as he waited, flashes of his long hair falling across his face and the occasional smile shot in Paul's direction graced his peripheral vision. The shorter man's hands trembled, heart pounding steadily in his ears. For a moment, he let himself dwell on Patryk; Mysterious, but incredibly intriguing. He was tall, a bit of an imposing figure, really. A few dark scars painted his jawline and what Paul could see of his collar, writing stories he could only hope to one day hear whispered to him. He seemed alert, and stood tall, but not quite confidently. Elegantly, in stark contrast to his warm dark tones, he seemed to light up the room; He wasn't  _ relaxed _ per se, but certainly seemed to offer a lazy smile at a moment's notice. He never seemed to stand still, much like Paul himself, and his long fingers always wanted to be busy with something, be it tapping on the counter or wringing around themselves, like warm cable-knit scarves tied loosely around chilly necks. 

Turning back to him, coffee in hand, was a bit like waking up. A greeting, hazy and comfortable, paired with soft sunlight, memories of half-forgotten dreams drifting past his eyes, and an intense yet subtle longing for words he couldn't quite grasp yet. Paul knew, down to his bones, that right here was the exact place he was meant to be. This was something  _ other, _ something terribly foreign to him, but wonderful. Handing the warm cup over, their hands brushed. A shock made its way down Paul's spine, warming him up and forcing another blush to his cheeks. Neither man might have known it at the time, but this was the moment the universe settled. And before Patryk had departed, he pressed a note of numbers into Paul's palm, with a final calm smile.  "Hopefully, we'll see each other again soon." He had said, voice warm with affection.  
  


And so, that is what they did.


End file.
